


loving is really my game

by mardia



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: kink_bingo, Leather Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-07
Updated: 2012-03-07
Packaged: 2017-11-01 14:11:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/pseuds/mardia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Is this okay, then?" Chuck asks, nervously tugging at one of the leather gloves. (Normal-life AU. Originally written for kink_bingo.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	loving is really my game

"Is this okay, then?" Chuck asks, nervously tugging at one of the leather gloves. “I thought about getting, like, pants or something, but—"

"Chuck," Bryce interrupts. His voice is hoarse, and he can't tear his eyes away from Chuck's hands, from the smooth, black leather, the point at where it meets the tanned skin of Chuck's wrists. "Get over here and touch me right now."

Chuck's mouth falls open at the tone in Bryce's voice, the desperation in it, and he comes over quickly, hesitating for a moment before Bryce reels him in, his hands firm on Chuck's hips. " _Chuck_ ," he grits out. 

Still tentative, Chuck reaches out and lets his finger brush along Bryce's cheek--Bryce shudders at the feel of the leather sliding over his skin, and then turns his head to let his tongue flick out and taste, letting out a little noise as he does. 

Part of it is deliberate, part of it is so he can look into Chuck's face and confirm that yes, this is exactly what he wants—but part of it is because he is just that turned on, by the feel of the leather, the look of it, the taste of it, the idea of Chuck wearing this for _him_ —

"Okay," Chuck says, breathless, "Okay, so—this is happening. How do you—"

"Here," Bryce interrupts. "Right here."

Chuck glances around their kitchen, their normal, ordinary kitchen, with the plain, cheap furniture that two guys just out of college and with student loans to pay off can afford, eyes wide, and asks, "Wait, _here_ , but—where will we even—"

"Oh for fuck's sake," Bryce snaps out, and Chuck's eyes get even wider, right before Bryce leans in and kisses him, hard, pressing in against him. "You think I give a shit about _location_ right now? Chuck, just—just _touch_ me."

And thank God, Chuck finally gets it—Bryce loves him, but sometimes the way Chuck can hesitate is like the _worst tease ever_ —and his gloved hands are cupping Bryce's face as he leans in for the kiss, and Bryce moans and kisses him back, the leather feeling cool against Bryce's flushed cheeks. 

He loves it, that's the thing, he loves this feeling and he wants it, enough to finally bring it up to Chuck, enough to admit, without a blush, that this is what he wants.

And now Chuck's giving it to him, is touching him with leather gloves on and kissing him like this is as much of a turn-on for him as it is for Bryce, and that's just—

He's already hard and rocking against Chuck's thigh, and when one of Chuck's hands slips down to his waist and just brushes against the strip of skin exposed where Bryce's shirt is riding up, Bryce can't help but whimper. 

Chuck's the one who ends up taking the lead, steering them to the table and pushing Bryce back on it—Bryce hits the edge with a muffled "oof" and Chuck immediately pulls back, worried, and Bryce just reels him back in.

"C'mon, Chuck," he breathes out, tugging at Chuck's shirt, trying to pull him forward. Chuck suddenly smiles, and then finally he's coming back in, tugging Bryce's shirt over his head, gently pushing him back against the table.

Bryce is already having trouble catching his breath, and when Chuck rests one of his hands on Bryce’s chest, the thumb just brushing his nipple, the problem only gets worse.

“Like this, then?” Chuck asks, teasing, and Bryce grits out, “Yes, okay, just—just more.” It’s not just the feather-light touches that are killing him, it’s the concept, it’s the sight of Chuck wearing those gloves for him, it’s—it’s Chuck’s hands running up and down his ribs, leather smoothly sliding against Bryce’s sensitized skin, Chuck watching as Bryce shivers beneath him.

“God, you do like this,” Chuck says softly, awed. 

“Wouldn’t have asked for it if I didn’t,” Bryce sighs, eyes closed. “Chuck—” He gasps as Chuck’s hand trails down his chest, and starts to stroke at the skin beneath his bellybutton.

He can’t be—but Bryce watches, dumbstruck, as Chuck works open the button and zipper to Bryce’s jeans, and when Chuck’s hand closes around Bryce’s cock, Bryce whines and jerks his hips forward. 

“Okay?” Chuck asks again, and Bryce chokes out, “Fuck, yes.” He clutches at the sleeves of Chuck’s t-shirt and pants for breath, fucking Chuck’s fist, biting his lips against any noise—not that it’s doing much good, he can’t help but make noise here, watching his cock slip in and out of Chuck’s gloved hand, the black a stark contrast to Bryce’s flushed skin, and—

Chuck’s dropping kisses on Bryce’s forehead, his temple, murmuring softly, “Hey, c’mon, it’s all right, it’s me, I want to see this, you’re so hot right now, Bryce, you have no idea—”

And Chuck would never think of this as dirty talk, and that’s why it’s so unself-conscious, that’s why it _works_ , Chuck’s breathless, honest, admiring voice in Bryce’s ear, the way he’ll do this for Bryce, put on leather gloves and jerk Bryce off in their kitchen because he loves Bryce, because he’ll give Bryce anything he asks for—

“Jesus, I love you so fucking much,” Bryce gasps out, squeezing his eyes shut as he kisses Chuck, hard, and comes into his gloved fist, moaning into Chuck’s mouth. 

When he opens his eyes, the first thing Bryce sees is that leather glove, covered in come, and he shivers again, before saying, “Hey, let me—”

He slides down onto his knees without a second thought, and pulls Chuck’s hand to his mouth, and stares up at Chuck’s dazed face as he licks the glove clean, letting his tongue slip out, watching Chuck’s eyes get wider, his mouth falling open as he stares, dumbstruck. 

Finally, Bryce lets Chuck’s fingers slip free and then he leans in, nuzzling at Chuck’s cock, breathing on it through Chuck’s jeans.

“Bryce,” Chuck chokes out, pleading. 

“Ssh,” Bryce soothes, grinning up at him, his skin still buzzing. “Don’t worry. I got you.”

And it’s true, of course.

*

Later, they’re curled up together on the couch—Bryce wouldn’t have minded collapsing on the kitchen floor, but Chuck deemed it unsanitary, and uncomfortable—while Chuck says, sleepily, “So that was a success then.”

“Yeah, I’d have to say so,” Bryce says, grinning, letting his hand rest in Chuck’s soft curls. “I don’t know if those gloves are going to recover, though.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Chuck assures him, and when Bryce looks at him curiously, Chuck shrugs and says, with a little smile, “I might have bought those gloves in bulk.”

Bryce stares at him for a moment. "You're the best boyfriend in the world," he solemnly declares, and Chuck beams back at him.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the song "Loving Is Really My Game" by Brainstorm.


End file.
